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Miss Cellaneous' Hidden Drabbles
Hiya Hiddenfolk here I don't consider myself a writer in any shape or form but I have made attempts over the years so I'm gonna dump whatever old stuff i dig up here, or something to that effect ---- Amor Fati (01/03/17) This fic is about retired oc Heron Cupid (Later revamped into Heron DeRosse!), from the story of Death and Cupid. It is about a destiny au in which he accidentally causes the death of... well yeah. ---- It was close to sunset when the final mourners left the graveside, leaving a candle lovingly lit in their memory. It flickered and blinked as the wind hit it but remained stubbornly lit, a burst of life that seemed just as bright as they did. A feathered figure gently landed at the cemetery gates and furled his wings. He was dressed in sombre purple, greyed by the orange twilight. He walked silently up the hill until the smell of fresh earth surrounded him and he found himself facing it. He stood motionless, like the protective stone angels that gently guarded their sleeping wards. Yet this person didn't have an angel. Because if they did, then… Heron kneeled down and placed the roses on the soil. He lifted his dulled gaze to the headstone and the delicate red thread twisted around it. “it seems like the death arrows didn't sever the string of fate…” They should not have died. But all he said was “I'm sorry.” Heron didn't know if true love was real or not. But it was his duty to spread it, linking together those that fate decided should be together. Cupid was meant to come with a promise of happiness, of unity, of a joyous life. And instead...this. “I'm sorry.” They had light in their eyes and a bright manner. He was simply meant to aim, to guide destiny in the direction it was meant to go. But they were the wrong arrows, they were not his, they were not right. He shot them through the heart and that was the end. All that they were meant to be… gone. And what of their destined beloved? They would never know this person who would have loved them back, who would have changed their world. Would they feel the loss? Could they still live in peace or would they have a hole in their heart, grief for the person they had never met? Just one mistake and their life disappeared. “I'm sorry.” Burning tears were falling, blurring his vision into a kaleidoscope of black and blue and white as it became too difficult to look anywhere but at the mood roses lying before him. He buried his face in his thread tangled hands and he wept. A Destiny Few Can Afford (05/03/17) This (unfinished) fic focused on Elodie Racine-Lebeau, and was meant to serve as an introduction to the mess that is their life, or something to that effect. ---- You're not too familiar with the ‘destiny conflict’ of Ever After, but you are a true blooded royal. Your life is ruled by tradition and your personality is defined by the public eye. As old nobility, you are the purest representation of a long and poetic history. With your life memorialised by the grandest of artists, you will never die. As long as you maintain the facade you will never die. --- If Elodie had nervous habits, they would be on full display at this moment in time. “I apologise, Mr Truman, but I'm afraid I must let you go.” The old man stared at them, stunned. “No… Master LeBeau, please reconsider! Hasn't my family served yours for generations? I… why?” Elodie averted their gaze to the polished surface of the antique desk resting before them. “You are a wonderful person, sir and I truly value all of the hard work and years of service provided by your family. However this must be done.” Was it the right thing to do? Breaking apart a long relationship between two families and brushing away a centuries-old promise of loyalty like it was nothing? Throwing away an old man they were duty bound to take care of, simply because of money? Elodie didn't know. But their mother was gone and nobody could answer that question for them. If she raised an issue with it when she returned, well that would have to be dealt with then. “because, well, as you can see…” they raised their hand, indicating towards the heavily papered wall, conspicuously absent of paintings. “We cannot…” Elodie trailed off with a resigned embarrassment. Of course he would know. He would have seen the other servants vanish one by one. He would have seen the beautiful antiques, the vases, the candelabras, the tapestries quietly disappear in the night, the covert sales that barely kept the palace running anymore. “Unfortunately, some things cannot last forever. I can only wish that we did not have to do this.” They clasped their hands and rested them on the desk. “We are highly grateful and We may not be able to offer much anymore, but If there is anything I can do…” Virgil's terrible poetry (09/03/17) I have an oc named 'Virgil.' He writes terrible poetry sometimes. ---- Sometimes I wake up In an unfamiliar alleyway Where no one would want to be Tears crusting both cheeks Sitting on stained ground And I ask myself “whose blood is this?” Then I remember A strange man Behind me Heart filled with sin Enough to replace the blood and air and love in him And it happened so fast Hand on my neck I grabbed it and tore it off Tears flowing so hard they were blinding He fled Everything turned red And the smell of iron blooms again All so overwhelming I fell To the ground And slept That's what I remember at least. Rather a pity Missed half my day Don't take naps in alleyways I thought about that night Thought that it was pretty alright I (probably) have a clear conscience I want coffee. Oh and when I said I tore it off earlier? I meant out of his socket. Oops. (Lol) Posted on a paranormal investigation blog (20/03/17) This was meant to serve as foreshadowing to the introduction of Chloris and Uaithne. However they ended up being retired, with the plot thread being dropped completely. ---- Once upon a time there was a land that breathed fairytales. Repeating generation after generation, like a beloved storybook passed down from parent to child or a soft hymn hummed on a nostalgic evening, the world was illuminated and coloured by it. However in this world, peculiarities still arose. Small snippets of folklore, barely remembered, except in local legend. Never quite understood, some would argue that it never happened. Others would seek more rational explanations… but those never quite rang true. The Green Children of Woolpit. Two children with verdant green skin suddenly appeared by the wolf pits. They spoke no English, they wore strange clothes and ate only beans. Eventually their quirks vanished along with their green hue and the girl joined society. It is said that the boy, who passed away from illness, was buried in the forest, away from prying eyes. No trace left. No story left. Just a mystery. Hundreds of years have passed from when this was rumoured to have happened. However recently something was spotted near Woolpit! Two cloaked figures have been seen lurking around the woods in the area. A local shopkeeper says that he has even made contact! He says that a green person entered his shop and tried to trade with a foreign currency. Well what do you think dear believers? Could this be the proof we're looking for? Real aliens? Ghostbusters (12/04/17) This extract seems kinda nonfandom, but it was going to be about Beatrice Miller, Virgil Dextrum and Dante Sinistrum, and the exorcism company they run in the big city. It's a pity it never got off the ground because it was cool. *''Their company got off the ground in the first place because of some demonic deals'' *''Beatrice is the company president'' *''Virgil was an artist who also helped out with exorcisms when called'' *''Dante was the secretary'' *''Bays Allheilmittel von Totburg also worked for them as a ghostbuster'' *''They rented their back room to a Miss Ban Shi Kyung for her radio show.'' All in all, think Ghost by Mystery Skulls. ---- It was a warm day, but the phlegmy ectoplasm that was glued to his skin seemed to be sapping all his heat away. He glanced at the address scribbled on the crumpled scrap of paper. It was unnaturally faded and nigh unreadable, which was distinctly odd seeing as he had only written it yesterday. Well not as odd as the bloody walls and floating furniture. His uninvited guest (geist?) was really getting on his nerves. Using Capitalism to Cope (15/04/17) This one never got a title djfjg So this one is about Ozalea Zaccacnini and the awkward reunion with her dad. Their character dynamics and Lea's motives are both outdated, but it's fun to see what they were originally like. ---- “...And that's how you activate the flames. Did you understand all that?” The emerald-green suited girl he was talking to snorted somewhat unenthusiastically. “Of course I know! This is like, the simplest set-up I've ever seen.” She flicked a few switches on the control panel experimentally, triggering kaleidoscopic bursts of smoke in the throne room that lay beyond the one-way mirror. Her expression fell further into disappointment. “simple indeed. How old is this shit?!” The man flinched, surprised. Even if his daughter was pretty much an adult by now, it still felt odd to hear her swear so nonchalantly. “Probably longer’n you've been alive honestly… I never got around to updating it. Left all my gadgets in my office back at the casino, haha… Bet ya liked playin with those without me lordin over ya huh?” “mhm…” Ozalea swivelled the throne-like chair towards her and sat down, eyes trained on the disappointing control panel and not the other major disappointment standing beside her. The Wizard of Oz shifted, tapping his foot on the ivory white tiles. “Yes, well, I'll leave you to get used to your new role. I'm sure you'll be a great ruler. After all you're my…” The brief silence was only disturbed by his congested breathing. He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “A Zaccagnini doesn't fail. You'll do fine.” Ozmond turned to leave. “Dad.” He spun around, surprised and was met with her unbreaking glare, green eyes underpinned by a cold determination. “Don't interfere. Oz is under my trust now. They don't answer to you anymore. Ok?” He stared at her, abashed at her rudeness. “...O-ok then. Goodbye.” He dropped the map beside her and walked away. The door creaked shut behind him. Silently Ozalea opened the briefcase she had been carefully protecting since she first landed in Oz. Unfolding the blueprints, she laid them beside the map and began to inspect them. And… there it was. The perfect spot for a casino. Grinning, she fished out a small sketchbook. She had a perfect coin design to go with it. Margot (21/08/17) This unfinished extract was going to be a random drabble about Margot Faryner, and their gender identity. ---- Margot pulled at a curl of hair, frowning dejectedly. They had no real attachment to their hair but it still seemed like a pity to cut it off. Sighing, they lifted the scissors and aimed them threateningly at the first messy handful of hair. "androgyny starts with a crap haircut I suppose." Roy (21/01/18) This was going to be a poem thingy about Roy van Nijratten. Since it wasn't finished, it doesn't really make much sense when you read it but the second verse was meant to be from Francis Drosselmeyer's perspective. I dont remember much but. ---- An amoral king, sullen in temperament and harsh in gaze. Scarred and sharp edged. He refused to acknowledge others, his impassive eyes merely reflecting their image, like a dulled mirror. The Mouse King, the creature of childhood nightmares Wandered through life, mind asleep. Sleepwalking. Gloomy rain and muted streets. A gloomy roommate he barely knew, with his crown discarded. One King to Another (22/01/18) This fic was first scribbled on a piece of paper at 6am and later written on a coach trip. It's set early into Roy van Nijratten and Francis Drosselmeyer's relationship, when they're still acquaintances. I'm happy for this to be considered canonical, even if it's the least glamorous bonding experience ever. It was still the first week of term. It was still the week of friendly reunions, cheery complaints and fresh textbooks with uncracked spines. It was still the first week, and Francis had somehow managed to drop his Most Valued Keepsake down a gutter. “Aaaa...aaaugh..aa” He stared at it speechlessly, his only coherent thought an unintelligible mass of vowels. He needed a… a… long stick. Or his walking cane, it had a hook on it! Or- A rat scuttled into view. “AAagh!” It started to sniff at the ring, practically nudging it with its nose. Closer and closer to the dirty water. “n-now there don't do anything regrettable please!” he said in a distressedly civil tone. “i-Im sure we can reason this out like sensible bein- AAUGH NO” The rat, in a move quite uncharacteristic of a neophobic species had grabbed the ring in its little teeth and scurried away down the pipes with it. “NOOOOoOoooooooo…” his cry faded into a tearful whine. Shifting from his knees into a cross legged position he took a ragged breath and pulled violently on his tie. He started reknotting it, as precisely as he could during these… trying circumstances. It seemed to be gone forever but Francis was an optimist and a gentleman. And an optimist does not let anything slip by without a fight. Even a pacifist could agree on that. He shot up. Time to return to his home base and create his plan of action. To his surprise, his roommate was there, lounging on the bed and pulling a cigarette out of its box. Something, Francis must add, he did NOT approve of, but who was he to tell the scary acquaintance who knows where he sleeps what to do? “R-Roy! Good afternoon!” He was met with a not impolite grunt and a half wave. “I thought there was a Villainy event going on today?” Roy’s voice was soft and monotonous. “Cancelled. Due to what you'd expect.” Francis smiled awkwardly and gave a little nod. “Oh dear, that's… unfortunate. Still I bet you're glad for the free time!” “yeah. I need all the time i can get.” He strode to the balcony and lit his cigarette. (You're clearly not helping matters by smoking) he frowned. Instead Francis just walked over to his desk. “I'm going to invent some sort of robot to go in the sewers for me. You see, rather unfortunate but a rat has stolen my ring!” Roy didn't turn around. “mmm. That sucks.” “It's a rather important ring, it belonged to my mother you see.” “damn.” “so I'm going to try to see if I can track down this one rodent, to reclaim it.” Bemusement crossed his face. It definitely wasn't sounding like a statistically plausible plan. “Ugh if only I could ask the rats to tell me where it is right?” “I mean it's possible.” Roy casually exhaled a long trail of smoke, watching as it disippated in the wind. “What do you mean?” “You know. Throw them food and they'll tell you anything.” “Which would be useful if I understood them” Francis sighed. His roommate grunted again. He didn't seem too inclined to offer any additional input. That said though... It was a bit of a presumptuous question. Francis clasped his hands together. “Roy… you're a mouse are you not?” Roy barked a laugh, swishing his tail back and forth. “Clearly.” “Then, um, would you-possibly… Francis tiptoed up behind him nervously. Roy gave a single impassive glance before his gaze flicked away again. “What?” “Could you accompany me into the sewers?” … “Out of all the ways you could have phrased that.” Francis laughed sheepishly, but his desperation was there. “Please, you can ask the rats where the thief is right? Then they'll give it back and everything will be hunky dory!” Roy rested his arm on the wall and stubbed his cigarette out. He looked towards Francis with a cynical smile, amused but not mocking. “Well I guess I should be asking what's in it for me.” Oh dear. This was expected but definitely not ideal. “Well um… anything you want!” “With an attitude like that you'll end up selling your soul to the devil.” “I could make you a doll or carve you a little figure!” “And why would I want something like that? If I'm doing this shouldn't I get something I actually want?” “Then…” Francis paused. “I'll give you happiness” Roy looked startled. “What” “-or try my best to do so! To the best of my ability!!!” Itching in the incredulous gaze, “If you pardon my redundant phrasing.” . . . Roy burst out laughing. “Low blow, man, low blow.” Francis coughed embarassedly as Roy’s choked cackling continued. “I didn't even want anything, but oh man out of all the shit you could have said you freaking chose happiness!! Either you're an utter cliche or you're trying to propose to me- Francis pinked “no, no I wasn't trying to propose or anything! I just- “Yeah no worries I get it. Anyways sure I guess I'll help you.” Francis beamed. “Oh my gosh thank you so much! I'll be sure to repay you in- “Happiness, yeah yeah” Roy snorted. “It's fine don't bother. My day's pretty shot anyway, might as well go along with your thing.” Roy sauntered towards the door. “I think there's a big enough manhole down Book End.” The two hoisted up the heavy manhole cover, using whatever remotely crowbarlike object the had on them to gain leverage. It certainly wasn't a subtle or private operation, and plenty of passers-by gaped in bemusement and mild disapproval over the clearly non council mandated pair. A hall monitor had even come down especially to call them out for it, only to be dissuaded by a glare from Roy. Francis was more apologetic and quietly resolved to tape a politely worded warning onto the discarded manhole cover. This plan was swiftly foiled as Roy kicked it across the street and turned back towards the uncovered manhole nonchalantly. “Well, guess I'll go in and ask around.” He dropped into the hole and started down the ladder, descending with startling speed. Francis glanced round frantically. “But-hold on a second what about this falling hazard?” “Doesn't matter, you don't have to come down here. Just stay up there and keep your old man glasses clean.” “Hey, these are trendy!” The raucous laughter echoed up at him. “Honestly…” Roy didn't have to wait long before a rat came his way. Granted, it continued to ignore him, rushing past him with the same disregard as a busy commuter. ---- This section was never written, but basically Roy and Francis find a Rat King. Roy takes out a knife in order to amputate all their tails, to disentangle the rat king. The lighter btw is for cauterisation purposes. ---- “Oh god that's hideous!” “Yup. Just another of nature's little aberrations.” He snorted. “Makes you miss the man made crapshow, huh? “Shouldn't we take it to a vet, at least?” “Lissen, no one likes street rats. Tryna save these shit’s lives is the exact opposite of what people want.” Francis stroked his cheek. “Hm you sure raise a fair point there, son." “Yeah so shut up and hand me a lighter.” “...Ack!” Francis turned away from the writing mass as he scrambled around his person, clearly attempting to distract himself with his search. A declaration from Princess Fiorimonde (29/03/18) Sometimes they say the princess was switched at birth and replaced by a changeling. Any opportunity to preserve the royal family's purity huh? Well I'm sorry to disappoint but at the end of the day, I have no inherent goodness. I'm not cursed, my heart has not been locked away. My eyes have no mirror shards in them, and I'm not an imposter. I'm just an amoral vainglorious princess. Reality must be quite the disappointment, huh? Keep on trying to save me with your love. I'll gladly crush that heart of yours. Dante saves Beatrice (21/06/18) This is Dante and Beatrice' first meeting basically. He saves her from a different demon and drags her to a barn, when they have this exchange. Dante hasn't taken a human form yet, as of this excerpt. ---- “Thank you for saving me.” The reptilian creature lowered its head and spoke in a flat tone. “I didn't save you out of compassion. This was simply a matter of territory.” Beatrice’s face fell slightly, but she quickly replaced it with a smile, forced through the pain. “At least you're honest…” Category:Fanfiction Category:Hiddenfics